Just in case you are wondering, this is a real attempt to write a novel and I really am looking for advice. I certainly need it.
Like everyone looking for directions, I wouldn’t start from here. But here I am. I’m 44, married and harried and laden with children. Our house is too small, my ambitions too large and my husband far too patient for his own good.
Ideally I’d be more marketable, young and pneumatic. But things go in cycles don’t they? Clapped out is bound to have its moment soon and then – pow. I will strike.
What currently keeps me going is that 44 is not 45, and 99 is not 100. Everything counts so I’ll try to do everything as well as I can. No one can ask me to do more, as my mother used to tell me and as I now tell my own progeny.
As anyone who has subscribed from the start will know, the blog has evolved considerably as I have learnt more about this medium. I have discovered that most people seem more willing to engage in stories from my life, and the lives of my friends, than they do with beginners’ literary crit. My current plan is to try and combine both. But this, like every aspect of my life, is work in progress.
I am very grateful to those of you who have subscribed and to those of you who have commented, or even just spared the time to have a look.
I’ll have to update this next year when 44 will tragically become half way to 90. I’ll carry on trying not to bore you.